


"Master, Your Shirt is Untucked Again"

by rocksandbottles



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Choking, Face-Fucking, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Teasing, is aura play a thing? can it be a thing? i'm making it a thing, like..relentless teasing, there's kind of a slight humiliation kink??, unconventional use of nen, why wing's shirt is always untucked, wing gets bored of hanging out with kids all day, wing is definitely a bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocksandbottles/pseuds/rocksandbottles
Summary: Assistant Master Wing gets bored of hanging out with kids all day, and ever since entering Heaven's Arena with his student, Zushi, he's had quite a bit of time on his hands. What better way to spend it than by getting to know some of the contestants a little more...personally?Or, Wing likes to fuck Floor Masters and use Zetsu to be extra sneaky about it.
Kudos: 17





	"Master, Your Shirt is Untucked Again"

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the Heaven's Arena arc and had the thought, "What if the reason Wing's shirt is always untucked is bc he's a sexual deviant who goes around fucking the contestants in his free time?" So I'm deeply sorry for the sins I've committed here today. 
> 
> This is the first fic I've ever written and I mostly wrote this for myself because Wing's pretty hot and deserves his own fics, but if you enjoy what I wrote that's also pretty cool!
> 
> Also, this work assumes Zushi & Wing are allowed on the 200th floor with Gon and Killua
> 
> I also apologize if I was inaccurate about any of the Nen/Zetsu/Ren stuff, I just started HxH a while ago and just thought it'd be kinda hot if it was used for sex _(:_」∠)_

Wing closes his eyes and tries to focus his breathing. He can feel his control over  _ Zetsu _ slipping, his aura threatening to flow and reveal his presence. He’s an Assistant Master, damn it! He can do this.

He supposes  _ Zetsu _ is a little more difficult to control when you’re pressed against the bathroom stall with a Floor Master’s fingers in your mouth and a rock hard erection, however.

Wing is passionate about teaching Zushi and the two new boys that have shown promise in Heaven’s Arena, but it can get a little boring hanging out with children day in and day out. Wing’s found himself with quite a bit of time on his hands since accompanying Zushi to the Arena. What better way to kill it than to get to know a few of the interesting faces milling about? Now, having ascended to the 200th floor with Zushi, and with most -- if not all -- of the contestants being skilled  _ Nen _ users, maybe he can learn a few new applications, be them practical or…otherwise.

“You know,” the Floor Master murmurs behind Wing, his warm breath ghosting over Wing’s ear, “shutting off your own aura makes it possible to become more sensitive to the aura of others.”

Wing can hear the smile in his voice as the Floor Master’s aura intensifies around him. Typically he’d feel threatened by the dominating presence but right now it just adds to the heat pooling in his abdomen. He moans around the man’s fingers.

“My, Master Wing, I’ve barely touched you, and yet you already sound positively  _ wrecked _ .”

With his free hand, the Floor Master makes work of untucking Wing’s shirt and sliding his fingers under the hem, skating the tips across Wing’s abdomen and up towards his chest. Wing shivers and leans into the touch, letting out a gasp when the Floor Master’s fingers scrape over a nipple and back down.

“So  _ noisy _ ,” the Floor Master taunts, tracing the path under Wing’s shirt back up to circle around his other nipple. “What’s the point of concealing your presence if you’re just going to make noise anyway?”

With this, the Floor Master removes his fingers from Wing’s mouth and grabs his chin, angling his head back towards his own chest and smearing a shining trail of saliva from the corner of Wing’s mouth to his jaw.

“Maybe I just need to  _ make  _ you be quiet.”

In an instant, Wing is flipped around in the stall and pushed  _ hard _ against the door, the Floor Master crowding around him as he dives in to capture Wing’s mouth with his own. With his fingers never faltering its ministrations on Wing’s chest, his other hand travels up to join in, the slickness of Wing’s spit on the Floor Master’s fingers adding a pleasurable slide around the unattended bud. This elicits another quiet gasp from Wing, and the Floor Master uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into Wing’s mouth.

Wing is slowly losing all semblance of himself as he is invaded by the presence of the Floor Master. He tries desperately to hold on to his control of  _ Zetsu _ as his focus derails from his breathing to the wet heat in his mouth, the slide of the Floor Master’s fingers on his chest, the growing tightness in his own jeans. He ruts his hips forward in an attempt to relieve the roiling heat in his lower body, but the Floor Master is quick to stop his movements with a bruising hand on his hips slamming his ass back against the stall door.

“Oh,  _ Master Wing _ ,” the Floor Master tuts, and Wing whimpers.

The hand on Wing’s hip finds its way back under the hem of his shirt, its thumb stroking small circles on Wing’s flesh while the Floor Master cups Wing’s cheek with the other and snatches up Wing’s bottom lip between his teeth. He swallows Wing’s moan in one last hungry, open-mouthed kiss.

The Floor Master cards his fingers through Wing’s hair, grabbing a handful of it at the crown of his head, and he pushes Wing down onto his knees. He pulls Wing’s face in to nuzzle the growing heat in his own pants, angling Wing to look up at him and saying with a devilish grin, “Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do,  _ Master _ Wing.”

Wing’s fingers make quick work of unbuttoning the Floor Master’s pants, earning him a soft hum of approval from the Floor Master who continues to comb his fingers through Wing’s hair, like a master praising their pet. The fingers stutter as Wing takes the head of the Floor Master’s cock into his mouth, clench into a fist as he takes more of the Floor Master in. The weight of the Floor Master’s cock on Wing’s tongue leaves Wing’s grasp on Z _ etsu _ hanging by a thread, and at this point Wing doesn’t really care if he loses it altogether. He’s lost in the heady heat, his focus reduced to the feeling of his hair gripped in the Floor Master’s fist and the bitter taste of his cock on his tongue. He opens his mouth a little wider, allowing room to take more of the Floor Master down his throat, bobbing away and tracing back along the shaft to circle the tip with his tongue. The Floor Master groans and tightens the hold in Wing’s hair, pushing him back onto his cock and holding him in place while using  _ Ren _ to increase the output of his own aura.

It’s one thing feeling dominated in such a position  _ without _ the presence of an overpowering aura, but with the Floor Master using  _ Ren _ on top of it, Wing is close to losing his mind and can’t stop the muffled moan from leaving his throat. Thank god for the cock in his mouth, or else the sound of it would have been utterly depraved.

Wing swallows around the Floor Master’s length, which must have been the right move because now both hands are fisting Wing’s hair as a guttural moan sounds from above. He looks up to see the Floor Master’s head thrown back and a smile of pure ecstasy plastered on his face. Holding Wing’s head in place the Floor Master slides his cock halfway out of Wing’s mouth and thrusts back in, making Wing take all of him into his throat and setting a relentless pace as he begins to fuck Wing’s face. Tears prick the corners of Wing’s eyes as he chokes around the Floor Master, drool pooling and pouring out from the corners of his mouth. The aura radiating off of the Floor Master and the weight of his cock at the back of Wing’s throat is a lethal combination, and Wing’s untouched cock is  _ leaking _ in his jeans.

“Mm,  _ yes _ , Master Wing. I’ve heard your skills as a Nen user are decent, but who would have thought you’d be so talented at sucking  _ cock _ ?”

The last word is punctuated with a deep thrust, sending the Floor Master’s cock down Wing’s throat once more, prompting Wing to swallow around it again and ripping another groan out of the man standing above him. Wing doesn’t think he’s ever been this fucking hard in his life and he wants _so badly_ for the Floor Master to just _touch him_ _already_.

“Look at me, Master Wing,” the Floor Master untangles a hand from Wing’s hair to cradle his chin. “My, what an incredible sight. I mean, you tend to look particularly unkempt, but  _ this… _ ”

The Floor Master’s right; Wing doesn’t look especially put together on a good day, but a few wrinkles in his pants or a shirt worn inside-out could probably be considered “put together” compared to what Wing looks like now: on his knees on the bathroom floor, cock in his mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks to mingle with the saliva glistening on his chin, hair an absolute  _ mess _ and the darkening wet spot on his jeans….yeah, he’s fucking wrecked.

Wing pulls off of the Floor Master and manages a very raspy, “Please…”

At that, the Floor Master hauls Wing up by the remaining fistful of hair and shoves him back into the stall door, pressing into his back so Wing can feel the Floor Master’s length against his ass. He snakes his hands around to unbutton the first few buttons of Wing’s shirt, sucking bruising marks into Wing’s shoulders as the skin becomes exposed. He slides a hand down to the waistband of Wing’s jeans, toying with the belt buckle yet never making a move to unfasten it. The Floor Master languidly teases the tips of his fingers  _ very _ close to Wing’s erection and catches an earlobe between his teeth. Wing whines, rutting his hips towards the touch, and the Floor Master lets out a breathy laugh.

“God, you want this so bad, don’t you, Master Wing? You’re just  _ aching _ for it, aren’t you?”

Wing’s focus is being pulled in too many directions to form a coherent sentence and all he can manage is a violent nod and a whimper.

“You’ll get your fill once I’ve had mine.”

The Floor Master finally --  _ finally  _ \-- unbuckles Wing’s belt and unbuttons his jeans, sliding them over his ass and freeing Wing’s cock from its denim-clad prison. The liberation leaves Wing feeling both relieved and empty; the constant friction the jeans provided to his otherwise untouched cock was now gone as it hangs heavy and drooling between his legs, devoid of any point of contact whatsoever.

And yet the Floor Master still refuses to touch him there. He slides his hands under Wing’s shirt and up his spine, back down to knead at Wing’s ass, around to his hips and down his thighs, and back up under his shirt. Every calloused touch leaves Wing shivering, panting,  _ begging _ for the Floor Master to wrap his hand around him and give him the release he’s dying for, but the Floor Master is far from finished with him.

He wraps an arm around Wing’s slender waist, clasps his shoulder, and presses his chest against Wing, making him bend over with his hands splayed on the stall’s door. Wing can feel the length of the Floor Master’s cock slide over his cheeks and it makes his dick twitch. Actually, from this angle Wing can  _ see _ just how fucking hard he is. His cock is flushed and angry, dripping with precome where it hangs heavily.  _ Fuck _ , at this point the Floor Master could  _ blink _ in his general direction and he’d probably come on the spot. Wing’s dick twitches again.

Wing feels the hand on his back slide down to grab at his ass, the hand around his waist moving up to flick at a nipple before traveling around to his backside. He hears shuffling behind him and lets out a shocked cry as the Floor Master sinks his teeth into one of the round globes of Wing’s ass. He bites his lip to muffle another cry as the Floor Master spreads him apart and exposes Wing’s hole, fluttering with the anticipation for whatever the Floor Master might have in store.

“If that pretty cock of yours wasn’t a tell already, your cute little hole  _ certainly _ lets me know just how badly you want this.”

Wing’s knees buckle as he feels the wet slide of the Floor Master’s tongue over his entrance and he steadies himself on the stall door. The Floor Master takes his time licking around Wing’s entrance like he’s enjoying a fucking  _ meal _ , making positively obscene noises as he does. Tears threaten to spill once more from Wing’s eyes as the Floor Master’s tongue slides past the first ring of muscle inside him and Wing buries his face in the crook of his arm. It takes everything Wing has to keep whatever brain cells are left focused on controlling  _ Zetsu _ and also not fucking screaming from sheer pleasure, so he bites his lip again  _ hard _ hoping the pain can ground him and keep his soul from leaving his body.

Wing’s efforts were futile, however, because as soon as the Floor Master spits on his hole Wing’s soul  _ yeeted _ itself out of there.

Wing throws his head back and _keens_ , all hope for staying quiet now lost. He doesn’t care, he _can’t_ care, he literally doesn’t have the capacity to care anymore. It’s a surprise he’s still holding on to _Zetsu_ even if it is by an _extremely_ frayed thread. In a very, _very_ small corner in the last conscious part of Wing’s brain, he thinks that Biscuit might actually be impressed with his ability to hold control like this. Every last conscious thought is knocked out of focus when the Floor Master presses a finger inside Wing.

“ _ Fuuuuuck _ ,” Wing groans as the Floor Master eases his finger inside to the second knuckle, and the Floor Master chuckles softly in return. He sets an agonizingly slow pace while he gently works his finger in and out of Wing, who’s trying desperately to angle his body so that the Floor Master passes by the one spot that will set Wing’s nerves alight.

“You’re fucking  _ greedy _ , Master Wing.” 

The Floor Master removes his finger, and Wing is left feeling empty, immediately spewing out a litany of, “No, no, no, what the  _ fuck _ , p- please,  _ fuck -- _ ” which only makes the Floor Master chuckle again. Somehow, Wing’s dick twitches at that, too.

“You beg so well, Master Wing!” the Floor Master says in fake awe, clapping his hands together once. “I wonder just how much begging I can make you do tonight.”

The Floor Master comes to crouch beside Wing, still bent over himself against the stall door, and catches Wing’s chin in his hand. He eyes the state of Wing intently with pupils blown and a small, hungry smirk on his lips. He rubs his thumb over Wing’s bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open, and promptly inserts two fingers.

“Suck.”

Wing sucks on the Floor Master’s fingers like his life depends on it, further encouraged by the Floor Master’s occasional, “Yes, that’s it” and “Good boy”. When he’s satisfied with Wing’s work, the Floor Master pops his fingers out of Wing’s mouth and returns to his position behind Wing. Wing’s heart  _ hammers _ in his chest as the Floor Master rubs a hand over Wing’s lower back and down his ass, groping another cheek and spreading it wide. With his spit-slick fingers, the Floor Master circles Wing’s hole again, and Wing can’t hold in his cries anymore.

“Please -  _ fuck  _ \- do it, j-just fucking  _ do it -- _ ”

The Floor Master buries the two fingers inside Wing and Wing feels all the air leave his lungs.

“Fuck,  _ yes _ . Thank you,  _ thank you _ , oh god - oh f- _ uck _ .”

The Floor Master continues his slow torture, stretching and scissoring Wing open but never once touching the spot that he wants touched so badly. Wing’s so hard it’s fucking painful, and he wouldn’t even be sure if his control over  _ Zetsu _ still remained if it weren’t for the intense shroud of the Floor Master’s  _ Nen _ felt only by locking away his own aura, its presence suffocating him in the best and fucking  _ hottest _ way possible.

Wing feels a third finger teasing his entrance and he grinds back on the Floor Master’s hand, encouraging the Floor Master to drive it inside him with the other two. Instead, the Floor Master grabs Wing by the scalp and shoves him into the stall door. Without removing the fingers from inside Wing, he presses his body against him, which inadvertently traps Wing’s cock between his own stomach and the cold metal door, eliciting a shivery moan from the man as the difference in heat between his cock and the door is a pleasure entirely of its own kind. Wing knows what the Floor Master wants, and  _ fuck _ is he willing to give it to him.

“Please, F -- Master,  _ please... _ Fuck me on your fingers…”

Wing doesn’t recognize his own voice at this point. It’s high and whiny and utterly desperate. He probably doesn’t even remember where he is, or  _ who _ he is; this man has reduced him to nothing but a begging, sniveling mess and Wing is perfectly okay with that.

The Floor Master slips his fingers out enough to line up a third before promptly sending them back inside Wing with purpose. The precome trickling out of the head of Wing’s dick makes slippery contact on the stall door, and the force the Floor Master is using drives Wing’s body forward, making Wing’s cock slide against the cool metal as he’s fucked into by the Floor Master’s fingers. Heat and pressure builds in Wing’s stomach as the newfound friction on his cock beckons his orgasm closer.

Every last thread of sanity is shred as Wing feels the Floor Master’s fingers curl inside him and graze against his prostate, electrifying his frayed nerves and ripping a scream from his chest to fly out of his lips.

“God,  _ FUCK _ , yes! There, r-right there! Fuck -- Master, don’t s-stop, don’t  _ fu-cking stop -- _ ”

The Floor Master spreads his fingers wide inside of Wing, driving them deep one last time before swiftly pulling them out and leaving Wing empty, wide-eyed, and gasping.

“No no n --  _ Ah! _ ”

The Floor Master’s fingers are quickly replaced with his cock and he spares no time burying it inside Wing’s ass. He plows into Wing viciously and Wing once again loses all ability to speak words, only a series of sobs and loud moans leave his throat. He’s so fucking  _ full _ and his cock is absolutely  _ soaked _ in his own precome as it presses against the stall door. His eyes roll into the back of his head as the Floor Master’s cock is pressed deeper inside of him, mouth hanging open and face covered in drool where it’s smashed against the stall door.

He’s so fucking  _ close _ and the Floor Master is so fucking  _ deep _ inside of him, but Wing wants  _ more _ and he can’t remember how to use  _ words _ to fucking ask for it. All he can manage to do is drive his ass back onto the Floor Master’s cock and hope that the message gets through to him, but it only makes the Floor Master press his face harder into the stall door and sneer.

“If you want it  _ so bad _ , then fucking  _ beg for it, Wing _ .”

Wing scrunches his eyes shut, willing his brain to make one last request before it shuts off completely. 

“Mmph -- m _ -more _ …plea-se, Master…”

He prays it’s enough for the Floor Master and he  _ sobs _ when the Floor Master obliges, grabbing his ass cheeks with both hands and spreading them wide, finding the perfect angle to drive his cock into Wing and thoroughly bottom out. The Floor Master is fucking him so hard the stall door rattles as each thrust sends Wing’s body slamming into it, the length of him dragging along Wing’s prostate in a continuous rhythm that has Wing keening at the intensity of it all. There’s something building up around Wing, and he balls his hands into fists and screws his eyes shut tighter as he anticipates the oncoming orgasm.

But there’s something else building up too, and suddenly it hits him like a strike of lightning. The Floor Master’s aura explodes around him, enveloping the space they’re occupying like a smoke bomb detonating. It’s all around him, inside of him, and it sends shockwaves through his body starting at where the Floor Master’s cock is pounding against his prostate down to his toes and up through his fingertips. Wing’s eyes fly open as he cries and pounds his fist once on the stall door.

He comes  _ hard _ and he doesn’t stop coming for what feels like an eternity, screaming through the orgasm like someone has hooked jumper cables directly onto his nerve endings. From where he’s still pressed against the stall door, his cock paints ribbons of white across it and himself and smears with the rest of the mess that’s been accumulating as the Floor Master continues to fuck him through his orgasm.

“Oh  _ fuck _ , Master Wing. That was  _ so good _ . I can  _ feel _ how hard you came. Jesus, your ass is  _ swallowing me whole _ .”

Wing has no time to catch his breath before the Floor Master does many things all at once: he pulls out of Wing, then he spins him around and  _ hauls _ him up by the backs of his thighs, before sinking Wing back down on his cock.

If he  _ had _ been able to catch his breath, the feeling of the Floor Master’s cock entering him from this angle would have pushed all the air back out of his lungs. Although he’s just come, Wing is still hard, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the Floor Master.

“Master Wing, what a deviant you are. Such a mess you’ve made of yourself and you’re  _ still _ not satisfied?”

The smirk on the Floor Master’s face is absolutely wicked when he adds, “Let me see what face you make when you come on my cock.”

The Floor Master pushes Wing’s back up against the stall door, and Wing reaches up to grip the top of it as the Floor Master sets another gruesome pace. With his legs wrapped around the Floor Master’s middle, this angle is almost better than previously and the head of his cock grinds against Wing’s prostate once more. 

He’s thoroughly fucked and oversensitive, asshole still twitching with the aftershocks of his first orgasm. Wing can’t manage a single syllable; thankfully the Floor Master doesn’t ask him to beg this time, because the only sounds he’s able to produce are the breathy grunts pushed out of him with each thrust from the Floor Master. He leans his head back against the stall to watch the Floor Master’s cock disappear inside of him.

The Floor Master raises a hand and splays it on Wing’s chest, gliding over to tweak a nipple which elicits a tired mewl from Wing. His hand continues to travel upward, over Wing’s neck and under his jaw.

“You look positively  _ exquisite  _ like this, Wing.”

The Floor Master’s hand retreats down to Wing’s throat and stops. His fingers curl around his neck and he increases his pressure. Wing’s eyes go wide at the vice grip on his throat, but he can’t deny that he’s  _ really fucking into it _ .

Apparently, the Floor Master can tell, because he says, “Oh,  _ fuck _ , Master Wing. Your  _ asshole -- _ ”

And the Floor Master grips tighter, fucks Wing harder, and doesn’t stop until Wing’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head and he’s coming again, completely untouched.

The Floor Master releases his hold on Wing’s neck and fucks deep into the tightening heat of Wing’s second orgasm, following quickly behind Wing with a groan as he spills deep inside of the Assistant Master.

He eases out of Wing before setting the man’s feet firmly back on the ground. Wing feels like absolute putty and he’s not certain if he has the ability to walk out of this bathroom. He realizes his aura is flowing, completely forgetting he was trying to control  _ Zetsu _ through this whole excursion.  _ Ah, oh well. _

Wing retrieves his pants and tries to get himself back to some semblance of “put together” as he distractedly tucks only half his shirt back in and buttons his jeans.

“Well,  _ Master _ Wing,” the Floor Master says with a crooked smile. “It’s been quite a pleasure getting to know you.”

As he leaves the stall the world around him comes back to his consciousness and he slowly remembers where he is, what he’s doing here, and who he’s with. He supposes he better go find the boys and see how their  _ Nen _ training is going. 

As he rounds the corner and wanders the hallway, he finds Zushi, Gon, and Killua watching the current match on one of the flatscreens mounted on the walls around the floor. Upon spotting his Master, Zushi runs up to greet him, taking in his Master’s appearance with a cocked eyebrow.

“Master, your shirt is untucked again.”


End file.
